


i would do about anything

by thegirlofsmarts



Series: widojest week 2020 [3]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, just some baking mishaps, new feelings so no one quite knows whats going on, not super important but the both of them are teachers and roommates, they were roommates oh my god they were roommates, this is technically part of a bigger fic but i have not gotten around to posting said fic yet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:33:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25064698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegirlofsmarts/pseuds/thegirlofsmarts
Summary: Jester and Caleb, two roommates in the modern world, have a little bonding time over baking and what it means to be home.
Relationships: Jester Lavorre/Caleb Widogast
Series: widojest week 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1803091
Kudos: 27
Collections: Widojest Week 2020





	i would do about anything

**Author's Note:**

> prompt: alternate universe  
> title: love like you - rebecca sugar  
> alt title: my home in you || will i find my home - juniper vale, vian izak

Jester slotted her key into the door, turning the key before she opened the door, her mouth opening to announce she was home— that is, if she didn’t just hear a very alarmingly loud clatter and then a cat’s yowl. That didn’t sound good.

“Cayleb?” she tentatively asked, hoping she wasn’t in the middle of being robbed, locking the door shut behind her and taking her boots off on habit. “Frumpkin? You there?”

She breathed a sigh of relief when Frumpkin came poking out from the kitchen and she strode forward to scritch him behind the ears when she noticed that he was not his usual clean self and frowned. She set her messenger bag against the couch and crouched down, opting to scritch him under the chin. “Aww, what happened to you, little guy?”

Frumpkin, who has always been clean in comparison to Caleb, seemed practically indistinguishable from him now in terms of filth. Flour caked his fur and in his paws and she could smell cinnamon in his fur. Weird— she didn’t own any cinnamon? “Jester— is that you?”

“Cayleb! Yeah, it’s me!” She stood up and walked closer to the kitchen, Frumpkin nipping at her heels. She stopped dead when she saw her kitchen— or whatever was left of it, really. Vaguely, she felt Frumpkin weave through her ankles and hiss at his owner. “What _happened_?!”

“I was, uh,” Caleb startled, struggling to find words and her gaze as he stood sheepishly in the middle of the kitchen caked in flour and the kitchen looking like a hurricane went through it, “trying to bake something. For you.”

Jester sighed, striding over to him and pulling her sleeve down to wipe some flour from his cheek. “Cayleb. You are very sweet, but the kitchen is an absolutely fucking mess.”

She saw him flush, hard to see under all the flour and who knows what else, but this close to him, the red coloring of his cheeks were all too visible to see. “I’m sorry. I promise to clean up.”

She rolled her eyes, tilting his head to wipe away more flour— and cinnamon she wanted to say, but she wasn’t too sure— from his jaw and neck. “Cayleb, that was not the point I was making. Can I at least ask _what_ you were trying to bake?”

He had gone a bit quiet as Jester continued to dust him off, her fingers ghosting along his skin. She didn’t say anything, letting him take his time, and didn’t say anything about his silence, which he was grateful for— because what was he going to say when she was this close? She made a face when she realized he was still wearing his coat that was— somehow, she marveled— dirtier than when she saw it last, dirty with baking ingredients, and decided that there was no saving it other than a good wash. She grabbed the lapels of his coat and he shrugged it off with no resistance save for a surprised expression that was gone as easily as it came. She was barely done with getting it off of him when he finally quietly said: “It was those bear claws you love so much. I know you are missing home.”

Oh. _Oh_. Oh _no_. He must’ve heard her voicemail to her Mama last night. The panic from being found out was soon subdued by the very fond affection that made her chest flood with warmth at the true meaning of his words, and she clutched his coat to her chest earnestly, her eyes full of newfound adoration and her voice unbelievably soft. “Really? The ones from Nicodranas? You were baking them for me?”

“ _Ja_ , well, trying to— I don’t think it’s going very well.” He shrugged and slightly nodded his head to the destruction her kitchen was in, a playful twinkle in his eyes that made her mouth break into a smile.

“How ‘bout this,” she offered as enthusiastically as always, placing the coat on the couch and interlocking her fingers. “I’ll teach you how my Mama showed me how to make them and while there’s waiting time, we can spend it cleaning up! Sound good?”

“ _Ja_ , good to me,” he said, unable to keep a small smile away at her infectious enthusiasm, her own smile only broadening.

“Good!” She shuffled a little closer to him and he had to look away so she didn’t catch him staring at her. _Was_ he staring at her? He didn’t know anymore. “How far did you get, Cayleb?”

“Uhh not far,” he noted, rubbing the back of his neck a little nervously and glancing around the counters. “I started mixing the dry ingredients but Frumpkin kept trying to hop on the counter and jump into the bowl and he eventually succeeded.” 

He prodded the overturned metal bowl with his bare foot, and Jester suppressed a laugh for a grin. “Aww, poor baby. Well, at least there’s not much for us to backtrace on— do you have all the ingredients out?” 

“They should be out on the counter over here.” It only took him a moment to point it out and she walked over, humming a thoughtful note as she inspected them. “The measuring tools should be nearby, I think.”

“Found ‘em!” she said, and he watched her bustle around, picking the bowl up from the floor and setting it on a counter before returning her attention back to the ingredients, pausing. “Did you buy cinnamon?”

 _Oh right_. “I— ja, I did.” He was looking at her pick up the glass jar of the spice with a fondness that made him both want to look away and stare at forever at the same time, before just opting for the former and looking at the sink spout, rubbing his forearm anxiously through the dark fabric of his shirt. “I remember you told me the bear claws from Nicodranas are loaded up with cinnamon, so I took a little shopping trip. I hope that was okay…?”

He looked at her sideways to gauge her reaction, and was a little surprised to see she was tearing up and staring at him, clutching the jar tightly to her chest. “ _Cayleb_. You’re a good person, you know that? Like, a _really_ good person.”

“Ah,” he started, staring down now and unable to hide his surprise, “I don’t know about that, but thank you—”

“Hey.” And he heard the clink of the glass against the counter and in two long strides she was in front of him, his vision suddenly full of her and the countless freckles that dotted her skin. _Her eyes look a little like violet in this light_ , he thinks, and then he’s immediately embarrassed by himself. _What the fuck?_ “You’re a good person. You didn’t have to do this for me, but you did, and that means you’re a good person, okay?”

He just nodded, too dazed by his thoughts and her words and their closeness and the million other thoughts nagging at the back of his mind, but that seemed to be enough for her and so she smiled earnestly at him before scrunching up her face. “How’d you get ink on your face?”

And then she licked her thumb and started to rub away the ink he had smeared on himself earlier while grading some papers and then he was suddenly aware of just how _close_ they were and how she was on the tips of her toes to properly wipe it away, nipping the _that’s kind of cute_ thought in the bud immediately. She stepped back, cocking her head slightly to the side and beaming at him. “All clean! You ready to start baking?”

It takes him a moment to recollect himself and he almost thinks he just simply won’t recover from whatever _this_ was, but of course he’ll recover— he’s surely been through worse. “ _Ja_. _Ja_ — sorry.”

“I’ll start on the dry ingredients since you were _clearly_ having a little trouble,” she said, and he started to sputter a protest that it was technically Frumpkin’s part for meddling until she shoots him a sly smile, “and you can start on the wet ingredients. Oh, I should get a bowl for that— hold on!”

He watched her open one of the taller cupboards and start to jump to get a bowl on a shelf that was just a bit too tall for her. She sighed exasperatedly and made a move to climb on the counter for an advantage, which made him quickly spring into action and place a hand on her shoulder to hinder her. “Okay, slow your roll, Jester. The counter has a lot of flour on it— I don’t want you to slip and die, okay?”

“You’ll catch me!” And she said it with such confidence that he almost believed her, but shrugged it off instead and fondly rolled his eyes at the suggestion.

“I can’t begin to wonder why you would put all your baking supplies on a shelf you can’t reach without climbing a counter,” he mused, reaching over her head and leaning into her body subconsciously, not realizing it until it was too late. He reached the bowl easily and presented it to her as she cupped it in her hands with a smile. As she went to place the bowl down, he wondered if he accidentally crossed a boundary by doing that. Sure, he and Veth never did that when _they_ were roommates, but then again, if he even _thought_ about helping her with something that was a little out of reach, Veth would kill him. Gods, it was barely maybe a week— at most— of him moving in as a temporary roommate, and his mind was already more in shambles than it was before? He’d’ve thought that was impossible, but he supposes if anyone could do the impossible, it’d be Jester.

“Cayleb! Are you gonna start on the wet ingredients or what?” Jester called out playfully, drawing him out of his thoughts, her hands busy with measuring ingredients.

“ _Ja_ , getting to it,” he said with a ghost of a smile on his face and moving to grab the stick of butter and a few measuring tools from her space, a little in awe to see her so in her element. “Have you baked before and been holding out on me?”

She laughed a little and her hands paused for a moment to not spill before quickly resuming. “Of course I _bake_ , Cayleb, but it’s been a long time, you know? I don’t always have the time, or motivation, or— y’know— _money_ to bake as much as I’d like.”

He noted her sad tone, but decides against mentioning it and she’s a little thankful, so instead he says: “Does baking help you not miss home?”

She hummed a little, still continuing measuring, if not just a tad more pensively at the question. “I think so. Maybe that’s why I like it so much, because I used to bake with my Mama a _lot_ when we were both free. I was always free though and she tended to be more busy than not, so I usually had to bake by myself. It’s nice to have someone else, though.”

She flashed him a side smile and suddenly the baking activity felt much more intimate to him (not that him baking her favorite pastry to cheer her up was any _less_ intimate if he was being honest, but still). He measured out the milk and water separately, carefully and precise and silently in thought, before placing them in the microwave, watching the number climb down. “Was your mother not always… around?”

“I mean she was _around_ ,” she hurried to defend. “It’s just that her work makes it hard for her to have time for other things like baking. She still tucked me in at night, and read me stories, and made sure I was given the best tutors, and I love her so much. She wasn’t always _around_ around, but she was always there for me—especially when it counted. It’s just _now_ that… I dunno, I guess it’s silly.”

“Hey, it’s not silly,” he reassured with a confidence his words normally didn’t have, ignoring the beeping of the microwave to focus on his words. “Your feelings are never silly.”

He watched as she smiled fondly at the bowl of accumulating ingredients, an undertone of sadness still ghosting the edges of it, the smile dying down into something more akin to a pout as she pondered her thoughts. “It’s just that I didn’t realize how lonely I was all the time in the house. Back then, sure, I was alone, but I knew I always had Mama and Bluud around to rely on, so I never felt _lonely_ , but here in Zadash, I’ve never felt so alone. So it really _is_ nice to have someone here. So, thank you, Cayleb.”

“No need to thank me,” he said, still a little shocked at this baking mishap turned heart to heart as he pulled the warmed milk and water from the microwave and shut it. “You could’ve probably had anyone you wanted to be your roommate. I’m not too special, yanno?”

She grinned a little, setting aside the bowl, done with her side. “Well, then thank you for being a dashing stranger who has such a big heart they were willing to bake me something because I missed home. Even if you’re not really good at it.”

“Well, I think that just makes it mean more, then,” he joked, pouring the two liquids into the bowl and some of the butter, which began to melt in the warmth it was enveloped in.

“It does, doesn’t it?” she mused a little thoughtfully and he turns to look at her, a little surprised to see the genuity in her features. “You done over there?”

“Almost, hold onto your horses.” He moved to grab a spoon to mix as she went to open the lower drawer, the two tripping over each other, but neither thankfully falling to the ground as they both regained their footing. “Ah, shit, are you okay?”

She gave an exaggerated thumbs up and he gave a small smile in turn. “Man, Cayleb, we’ve got to stop bumping into each other. Some people are going to think you’re secretly in love with me!”

He rolled his eyes playfully at her and sighed, moving around her to get a spoon and she took it as a cue to open the lower drawer as previously intended. “Ah, quickly: has Nicodranas always been your home?”

She took a little time to answer, disguising her thinking with concentrating on finding a whisk among other baking tools. Finally she took it out, shutting the drawer with her foot and grabbing the mixture of wet ingredients from Caleb. “Nicodranas is where I grew up,” she started slowly, deliberate in her words, “so I think a part of me is always going to call it home. Zadash _is_ growing on me, but there’s nothing tying me here— not _emotionally_ like Nicodranas does.”

“Is Nicodranas your home,” he ventured a little cautiously, if only because he didn’t want to scare her off by being too much, “or your mother?”

She hummed thoughtfully as she poured the wet ingredients into the dry with an ease and carelessness he himself could never possess. “I think Mama would be home,” she admitted slowly, “but Nicodranas would still always have a special place in my heart if my Mama ever decided to move, I guess. Why are you asking?”

“Just curious,” he answered, but she raised an eyebrow at the simplicity, so he continued on, albeit hesitantly. “About the difference between a home in a person and in a place.”

“Do you have a home?” she asked, holding the bowl in her arm as she whisked and he tried not to get distracted by the way he’s never noticed the muscles so clearly prominent now in her arms, and then the question threw him for a bit of a loop. “Like, an _emotional_ one?”

“I used to,” he eventually croaked out, thinking of smoke and destruction and fire and he pushed it from his mind, almost second nature. “It’s in ruins now.”

 _And the only person I would’ve called home is…_ Caleb couldn’t find the words to finish his thought and distantly thought it to be pathetic.

“Cayleb,” Jester said earnestly, stopping her whisking. “I’m sorry for asking, I didn’t know—”

“It’s okay,” he interjected, even if it was anything but. “I asked you and you asked the same of me. It’s just a game of fair.”

She didn’t say anything and continued to whisk away her thoughts as he watched her thoughtfully, wondering what was going through her head. They didn’t say anything for a long time, until, a little quietly: “We should let this rise now.”

He only nodded, dampening a cloth and handing it off to her, which she wordlessly took and covered the bowl she had greased and transferred the dough into. She set it aside and began putting the bulk of the ingredients away as he did his best to help, especially for anything that happened to be a little out of her reach. It was eerily quiet, and he wondered if it was unnerving for her as it was for him. 

He figured the air of uncomfortableness was doing no good for anyone so he opted to clean himself up instead once the bulk of the disaster the kitchen had been in was gone, mumbling to her something about it before he left for the bathroom, turning the shower on. His sleeves were crusted with flour he had gotten from just being in the kitchen alone and he wasn’t too big on showing him a side of him a week in, so he was forced to keep his sleeves down. Unfortunate, really— it was a comfy turtleneck while it lasted. He changed out of his clothes without much other issue and slipped into the shower, letting the scalding hot water run over him and burn his skin raw. He spent more time than not just standing there trying to collect his thoughts, wondering what he had done, what he had said, that made the silence in the kitchen fester.

After exactly 42 minutes, he shut the shower off, deciding that if he wanted to wallow and get more lost in his head, it was not going to be under a shower whose water was already starting to get cold. He got changed in whatever first clothes he thought was comfortable, which happened to be a dark worn longsleeve and a pair of sweatpants that were both sporting a few holes but was otherwise fine— they’d live to be worn another day. He gathered clothes from the bathroom floor and set them in the laundry room, taking a quick pit stop in the living room for his coat, pretending not to notice that Jester was back on baking the bear claws, the waiting period passing as he cleaned up. Gods, a week in and he had already screwed up being friends— _friends?_ Had that ever been established? This seemed to err more on a business arrangement than friendship, if he was being honest— with someone who was friends with everyone. What a specially messed up person he must be.

He set the coat in the laundry room and parked himself on the couch, beginning to set up and grade papers, Jester still busying herself in the kitchen by humming a deceptively cheerful tune, but he could sense the tension in the way she was opening and closing cupboards and drawers and how hard she was setting things down, even if the change was almost imperceptible to any untrained ear. He continued to try and grade, but his thoughts kept drifting. How was he going to apologize? If he apologized, would it seem insincere? Were they fated to hate each other and avoid each other in this house forever? He dreaded the thought entirely, a little more than he cared to admit.

The smell of cinnamon and sugar wafted over and, okay, _now_ he was definitely distracted, but at least this seemed to be more of a tangible concern. His mouth watered and vaguely he wondered the last time he ate a desert food just to eat was. It must’ve been forever ago. It doesn’t take long for Jester to finish up the bear claws, pushing them into the oven and setting a timer. She sat on the far end of the couch— practically falling off if a strong wind blew through— quietly murmuring to Frumpkin who laid sleepy in her lap. She was too quiet for him to hear (not that he was actively wanting to), but he could still hear the sadness and earnestness in her voice.

Soon, the timer rang out and Jester carefully scooched Frumpkin off of her without disturbing him too badly, and she went to take it from the oven and the _smell_ that came from it was enough to make him set the papers down and just sit, enjoying the fragrance alone. He could fall asleep right now, and the prospect of sleep agreed with him dearly because a strong yawn came and a wave of tiredness overtook him. He moved to get up to take a quick nap in the comfort of his room, but not before Jester stuck a still steaming hot pastry in his face: a silent offering.

“Thank you, Jester,” he quietly mumbled, the awkwardness far too much for him, but he took the pastry anyways, pleasantly warm in his fingers, and she simply nodded with her gaze on her own bear claw that was being worried away carefully by her hands. “I’m going to take a nap. Can you wake me up when it’s dinner?”

She only nodded again, and he decided that was all he deserved to get anyways, so he just took a bite of the pastry— which was _very_ good and much better than what he could’ve accomplished on his own and he was definitely going to pay his respects to her when— _if_ , he chided— the awkwardness was gone— and began to walk to his room before Jester grabbed the hem of his shirt. He turned to her, a little surprise and confusion in his eyes as she stared at him in earnest, as if searching for something or just trying to read him.

“Do you think everything is a game?” He blinked, a little taken aback. She seemed genuine in her question, not a sense of rhetoric in her voice, but rather soft and a little hurt. Wait, _hurt_? “Earlier, you said it was just ‘a game of fair’ about me asking you a question after you did to me— is that what you thought it was? That I was just trying to even the score or something?”

It took him a moment to regain any semblance of speech. “No, of course not. I know you wouldn’t do that.”

Her gaze softened a little around the edges and she took a moment to breathe in and breathe out. “Okay. Okay, I just… wanted to make sure to let you know it was just me trying to get to know you, not because of some weird question debt, okay?”

“Of course,” he said honestly, smiling a little just to show he believed her and trusted her.

She grinned at him, however small. “Hey, you know this means we’re, like, most definitely friends now. You can’t avoid it anymore!”

Her voice lilted as her words dipped into a singsong and he couldn’t help but smile. “ _Ja_ , okay, I guess it does.”

“No— I wanna hear you _say_ it!” she exclaimed, looking at him expectantly, and when he cocked his head to the side with a wandering gaze and an open mouth about to spew _some_ excuse about how he’s _so_ sleepy and _really_ should be getting to bed now, she jutted her lower lip out and pouted. “ _Pleeaaase?_ ”

He sighed, hopeless against her endeavors. “You are _mein freund_ , Jester Lavorre. Happy?”

She smiled gleefully at him. “Very much so! Farewell until dinner, my lovely and wonderful _friend_!”

Jester let the last sound drag on as she skipped back to the kitchen until she was either out of earshot or simply out of breath, but it still brought a smile to his face as he watched her retreating form.

Home, huh?

**Author's Note:**

> day three was i think the first one i thought of coherently for widojest week and then it spiraled into a whole story plot so once i find my footing i'll post it sometime BUT ANYWAYS yes day three is a snippet but yes this also feels a little lackluster to me and yes i'm soft for them but that is not a surprise to anyone. don't forget you're lovely and deserving and worthy of love <3!  
> (catch me @thegirlofsmarts on tumblr!)


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